Operation Zulu Redemption--Complete Season 1 Read Online Free

the dark foliage of the pine trees huddled around it, as if protecting it.
    Protecting me
.
    And they had for the last four years. She’d called this place Sanctuary.
    She grabbed her radio as she walked the perimeter, seeing nothing. “Beth, Charlie again. I’m not seeing anything.” No broken surfaces. No depressions. No black spots against the white. But there was a small inlet in the kidney bean–shaped lake that hid itself behind some trees.
    Candice followed the path around—and stopped. Two trees lay across the path, their trunks snapped.
Strange
. The trees were young but not enough to be bowled over by winds. She’d have to come around the other side of the lake. A bit longer though.
    She backtracked and came up around the northern lip. Cold dug into her bones, the biting winds no friend to humans. Which begged the question and sanity of the parents who brought the little girl. She’d like to think she would’ve been a better parent. More responsible. Sensible.
    God doesn’t give child killers their own children
.
    They get isolation. Depravation—of society. Of friendships. Of acceptance. Of forgiveness.
    She swallowed, pushing back the memories, and lifted the hood of her jacket. Fur trim tickled her quickly numbing cheeks. Then she saw it.
    Candice stopped short. Saw the dark spot. In the ice. She hurried forward, eyes on the frozen lake, feet traversing the treacherous terrain closer to the bank, where snow blurred the point where dry land gave way to ice.
    Edging closer, she hunched. Keyed her mic.
    A strange pulse shot through her when she saw the body. “Oh God, help me.” She tossed down her pack. Yanked it open. Drew out her rope and carabiners. “Charlie here—I’ve got something. I see…” She didn’t want to say it. “I see…
someone
.”
    “Tell me,” Beth’s voice crackled. “I’m tying in Brad.”
    “They’re half submerged.” She lowered her radio and shouted out over the lake, “Hello? Can you hear me?”
    “Charlie, don’t go out on that ice without a raft or tube of some type.” Nearly drowned by the
thwump
of the chopper’s rotors, Brad sounded like he was shouting. “Do you have one?”
    “No.” She scratched her head.
    “Then wait for us,” Brad said. “We’re ten minutes out.”
    Ten minutes. The person could be dead in ten minutes if she didn’t get to them. In fact, they weren’t moving. “Hello? I’m Park Ranger Reyna.” She roped up and anchored herself to a boulder. She hit her mic again. “No response. I’m going out.”
    She stepped out onto the ice, testing it. When no cracks or pops happened, she scooted out, carefully. “Hello?” The rope draped along her thigh, batting it with each step as she made progress.
    Brown hair. Matted. With ice in it.
    As if the body had been there a while.
    A knot grew in her stomach. This person could’ve been here for days.
    “Hey, Beth?”
    “Yeah?”
    Her foot slipped, nearly face-planting her into the ice. “Whoa.” She swung out her arms and steadied herself. “Who called this in?”
    “Some hiker.”
    “Uh-huh.” She was almost there. The light blue and black jacket looked bloated. “And why didn’t they help?”
    “I… don’t know.”
    Right. Most people let fear stop them. Candice let fear propel her. She lowered herself to her knees. “Almost there.” She reached out with a winter-tek-gloved hand, suddenly terrified of what she’d find.
    She yanked back her hand as a memory intruded. Smoke. She could smell smoke.
    On all fours, Candice lowered her head. Shook off the thought. No smoke here. Just the snow and ice.
Just snow and ice
, she repeated and reached once more.
    Fingers coiled around the collar, she tugged the person back. “Hello? Are you okay?” She drew them up, the weight fighting her. Sodden and frozen, the person wasn’t moving.
    Bracing herself, she used both hands to haul the person free.
    They budged only a few inches. She grunted. Flipped them over. And